Inside Out
by UnloveTrack
Summary: Linda Scott has never been one for puzzles or mysteries and yet she is determined to figure Peter Pevensie out. She watches the Pevensie children change and blames the war in England. These are her thoughts and her memories during the war.
1. Chapter 1

**There will be no girl falling into a wardrobe in this story. She will not be in Narnia at all, actually. She is not a Mary Sue, I hope. **

**I bring you: Inside Out the tale of an observant girl.**

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War changes people. It's not an opinion or an argument—it's a fact to anyone who has ever had to experience the horrors of war. Linda Scott's life had changed because of World War II but hers was not the only one. Her best friend since the very first day of school, Susan Pevensie, had also had her life change because of the war. By extension it only made sense that her siblings lives changed as well. In the midst of childhood the concept of change is daunting and something that children aren't capable of accepting right away. Linda was especially having trouble with this fact.

Peter Pevensie was not the same boy she remembered. Neither was Edmund (Lucy or Susan) for that matter but Linda seemed to notice it more in Peter than any of the other Pevensie's. She had never been particularly close to Peter. Linda had no siblings and so the concept of a brother—let alone an older one—was completely foreign to her. She spent most of her time with Susan and Lucy playing at their home. At that age Edmund was not too fond of girls and monopolized Peter's attention. Linda hadn't been able to understand Peter then and she wasn't having much luck with it now.

This new Peter was no boy—he was acting more like a man than he ever had. Linda had seen Peter walking in his father's too big shoes beforehand trying to act like a father figure to his siblings. She saw the resentment that brewed inside of Edmund and the annoyance it sometimes sparked in Susan. Lucy as innocent as ever seemed unfazed. That Peter was gone now and Linda wasn't so sure how she felt about it. This new Peter, he made her extremely uneasy when he was around.

She had never felt nervous around Peter before save that one afternoon when she was eleven and he had just turned thirteen the previous day. The only time Peter and Linda were alone together were the times his parents would ask him to walk Linda the block to her house. His mother used to make Peter hold her hand when they crossed the street. She never told him to do so that afternoon and she hadn't said to for almost a month but he did it anyway because he felt that it was the right thing to do.

Linda had asked a very innocent question on their usually silent walk to her house that day. It was one of the few times she spoke on those walks. She was usually too tired to be talkative and she never knew what to say to Peter. The only time they spoke was when he brought her to her door and she told him goodbye and thanked him for walking her home. It wasn't anything spectacular because her mother or father usually said the same thing to Peter when they answered the door.

But this day had been different. She squeezed his hand and looked up at him with all the innocence in the world.

"Peter," she was timid when she said his name. He hummed and smiled to encourage her to go on though he wasn't very interested in what she was going to say. Linda stopped walking and so did Peter. It took her a long time to find the right words and gather the courage to ask the older boy what she wanted to know.

"Do you know what kissing is like?" Peter stood taller and flushed deeply at her question. His first attempts at speech were riddled with stammers and choked noises.

"It's um, well, when two... ah, it's like... well..." Peter had pride and he didn't want to seem like he didn't know what he was talking about. He wanted to keep up the appearance of knowing everything as boys that age were prone to doing. The truth was that Peter had never experienced kissing and had no idea how to go about answering this question. Feeling like she had done something wrong Linda silenced Peter with an explanation.

"I saw it in a movie my mum took me to and my parents kiss and I was just curious." Peter and Linda lapsed into a silence still holding hands. Peter's hands had become sweaty but Linda hadn't minded one bit. She liked how his hand was warm and big around hers—it made her feel delicate.

After a moment she looked up at Peter through her lashes and deliberated asking him another question. Blushing more deeply still she decided to ask. Her mother had always told her that there were no stupid questions only stupid answers.

"Can you show me?" Peter looked down at Linda with his jaw slack and his body feeling overheated.

"Can I show you what?" He asked aghast.

"How to kiss," Linda stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It left Peter torn. He had never kissed anyone before and didn't know if it was the proper thing to do. The only people Peter had seen kiss was his parents and he had always had it in his mind that he would kiss when he was married. He and Linda were not married and not old enough in his opinion. Yet he wanted to keep on the pretence that he knew all about kissing.

"Oh," was all Peter managed to say. Linda stood staring up at him expectantly and Peter stared down at her with a guarded expression. This went on for a long time before Linda grew impatient with the situation.

"Well are you going to kiss me or what?" She demanded. Peter swallowed nervously and bent down capturing Linda's lower lip between his. He felt her smile and giggle and pulled back immediately feeling embarrassed. That hadn't gone at all as he had expected it to and now Linda would know that he knew nothing about kissing.

But Linda was pressing a tentative finger to her lower lip and was frowning. She shook her head lightly and mumbled to herself before she stepped forward and stood on the very tips of her toes. Peter was at a loss of what was going on when her hands gently captured his face and she pressed her mouth to his again. He did nothing as the younger girl leaned into him to stay close enough to press her lips onto his. What he did next could only be called instinct as he began to gently move his mouth against hers.

Linda fell back onto her feet not too long after that before smiling brightly at a stunned Peter.

"I don't see what the big deal about kissing is." She commented before beginning to lead the way to her house. And just like that the nerves were gone.

This new Peter though—he could make her feel like she was about to die—all it took was one look for the nerves to come alive. She had thought she had known him but he had returned after the air raids feeling like a stranger to her. All of the Pevensie's did. They looked the same—albeit Edmund and Peter had grown taller—but they still seemed different. The change was most obvious in their eyes—even bright and cheerful Lucy's eyes seemed dull in comparison to Linda's memories.

Linda had to wonder if her friends felt the same way about her. Had she been changed so much by the war that she looked herself but felt like a stranger?

The answer was unstable, uncertain and uncommitted; perhaps she had changed.


	2. Chapter 2

**I apologize for the wait on this update. I'm not satisfied with how it ended, but I decided not to keep any readers I have waiting too long. I would like to DISCLAIM that Linda never steps foot into Narnia and never will. I would also appreciate a review, even if it's a bad one. =] This is mostly based off the movies, just because it gives me more substance to work with. Enjoy.**

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Linda had been writing by candlelight when the sirens started sounding. For a blissful moment, she thought that perhaps she had slipped into a slumber after all—and fallen straight into a nightmare. Then her mother started to scream, unintelligible words, from her bedroom. Reality was quick to set in then.

She tossed the letter she had been composing to the side and reached for her housecoat. Linda and her mother had been prepared for this moment—she dove under the bed to retrieve the box. It contained priceless memories, things that had more worth to the heart than to the outside world. The most prized possession within was an aging photograph of her grandparents on her father's side.

Without a second thought Linda threw the half written letter into the box and stumbled out of her bedroom. Her mother had been frantic. When Linda had responded to her calls, she panicked and began to search out her only child. The mother and daughter nearly collided in the dark house. Anna Scott gripped Linda's forearm and began to drag her down the stairs.

Linda's breathing was laboured, bordering on hyperventilating. Her heart was beating quickly, creating a harmony with the siren blasts. It was happening so fast, her legs weren't long enough to match her mother's strides. Everything was a blur of sound and darkness. Mrs. Scott didn't care how often her daughter stumbled—just that they both reached the shelter before a bomb was dropped in their vicinity.

Outside the noise was unbearably loud, Linda wanted to drop her box of precious memories and cover her ears. Overhead planes were gliding through the air, right above their house. Halfway across the dewy lawn, Linda caught sight of a black mass falling through the air—a bomb. It impacted in the direction of Susan's house.

Linda wasn't given the option to stand there and assess exactly where the bomb had fallen. Every second counted in those moments—even the slightest of pauses could mean the difference between life and death. Linda couldn't get down the stairs of the shelter fast enough; she ended up falling and crumpling on the ground inside. Her mother shut the door behind them and began to light the oil lamps.

The shelter was small, only big enough to fit two cots in it. There wasn't any room for pacing, or standing, so Linda crawled onto the cot furthest from the door. Linda cradled the box full of pictures and letters from her family. It wasn't her father—stationed in France, fighting in the war—that Linda was thinking of.

Her mind was reeling. Had the Pevensie's been in their home when the bomb hit? Had they made it to the shelter? Was Lucy frightened? Had Susan gotten hurt? Did the house have a lot of damages? Could it be that best friends forever, ended tonight? No, if Susan had... perished in the blast, she would still be Linda's best friend. There was no replacing Susan Pevensie.

What if Mrs. Pevensie hadn't made it out, but the children had? Peter would have gotten them there safely, right? But if something happened to Mrs. Pevensie... Peter couldn't raise his siblings. He was only fourteen. It would be four years before he would be of age. How would he provide for his family? Linda swallowed back her tears, if her father were here he'd tell her to be brave. Linda would be brave, for him, for her mother and for the Pevensie's. It wouldn't do anyone any good to fret.

"How long do we have to wait down here?" Linda asked.

"Until the raid is over," her mother answered.

"How much longer do you think it'll be until the raid is over?"

"I don't know, Linda, do try and get some sleep." Her mother soothed. Linda could see through her mother's rouse. She was on the brink of a breakdown and wanted Linda to sleep, so that she may fall apart in private.

"Mum, do you think the Pevensie's are alright?" Linda asked, feeling timid. For a long time, it seemed like Linda's mother wouldn't answer her.

"I'm sure that they're all fine, sweetheart."

"Mum, if something happened... will we be able to help them?" Linda asked with more confidence.

"It depends on what kind of help you're talking about." Her mother evaded the question, while still providing an answer.

"I mean, say if, Mrs. Pevensie were hurt and had to go to hospital, would we be able to take Lucy, Edmund, Peter and Susan in?"

"Oh, no, Linda. That responsibility would fall onto their next of kin. A relative would want to take them in. But don't worry because I'm sure Mrs. Pevensie is fine. Now, do try and get some sleep."

This time, Linda listened to her mother and allowed herself to go to sleep. It felt like she had only just shut her eyes, when her mother was shaking her awake.

"Is it over?" The young girl asked.

"Yes, the raid is finished," her mother responded. Her wording was careful—she had no idea when this war would end, let alone the air raids that terrorized England. She would never lie to her daughter about these things.

Linda didn't wait for her mother, she didn't even consider the fact that she wasn't wearing any shoes, she just ran out of the shelter (after a struggle with the heavy door). With a sigh of relief she saw that her house seemed to be unscathed from the night's events. The Whitford's down the road, however, weren't as lucky. Their house had been hit in the raid, and the surrounding homes had suffered for it as well. Linda hoped that they had gotten out in time, but Shirley, Kevin and nine month old Donna Whitford weren't her main priority.

Her mother called after her as she began to sprint, barefoot, down the road toward the Pevensie's home. The concrete hurt the soft flesh of her foot, but she didn't allow the pain to slow her down. She had to see that the Pevensie's had made it okay, she wouldn't be able to cope had something happened to Susan, Lucy, Edmund, Peter or their mother.

Families stood in huddles along the street, emergency personnel and soldiers were doing their jobs, but no one stopped or questioned Linda. In her haste, she wouldn't have noticed, had anyone tried to deter her from her mission.

Linda felt only a fraction of relief from her worry, when she rounded the corner to see that the Pevensie house was still standing. All the windows had blown out, from a blast that fell on a neighbouring house. Had they been inside at the time of impact it could have resulted in potentially fatal injuries.

She knew better than to try and walk through the house. Instead she dodged glass littering the ground and ran out back, where their bomb shelter stood, untouched and stable. It was fate, or coincidence, that Peter opened the door to the shelter at that moment. The Pevensie's exited the shelter in different fashions, Peter was scowling, Edmund was brooding as far from Peter as he could get, Susan looked confused and Lucy was clinging to her mother.

"You're alright," Linda called, rushing faster toward her best friend's family. She reached Susan first and nearly bowled them both over with her momentum. Susan was as keen to cling to Linda as she was, both girls relieved to be alive.

"I was so worried about you, Su."

"I was worried about you too, Lin!" Susan squeezed her friend once more before releasing her. Linda fell to her knees in front of Lucy and yanked her into a tight hug, pulling little Lu right off her feet.

"Oh, Lucy, were you a brave girl?" She murmured.

"I-I tried to be," Lucy wrapped her arms tightly around Linda's neck. Linda pretended not to notice the damp feeling on her neck and instead swayed the young girl from side to side in a soothing manner. Linda stroked her hair and rubbed Lucy's back as they swayed. She reluctantly pulled back from Lucy and wiped away her tears.

"It's going to be alright," she told the young girl. Linda pushed herself up onto her feet and collapsed into Mrs. Pevensie's waiting arms. Now it was Linda's turn to have her hair stroked, soothing words murmured into her ear and having Mrs. Pevensie's hand rubbing a circular motion on her back. She inhaled the familiar scent of Mrs. Pevensie. Given the circumstances, she still smelled like fresh baking. Linda pulled away and forced a brave smile at Mrs. Pevensie.

Linda hesitated for a moment before she threw her arms around Edmund. She knew he would push her away, he always did, but she just had to hold him to reassure herself that he was alright. There was a brief moment where Edmund just allowed Linda to hold onto him, before he caught Peter watching and pushed her off of him, with perhaps a little too much force. She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her night clothes, but caught herself.

She didn't hear Mrs. Pevensie's admonishing her youngest son. Linda had already turned and stumbled into Peter, holding him tightly. He responded by lifting her off her feet, much like how Linda's father would. Peter wasn't very tall, and so her toes still brushed the grass below. He began to murmur assurances to her, and that put Linda off.

Peter wasn't allowing himself to be afraid, or to take comfort from her embrace. She broke away, and looked up at him with searching eyes.

When had he decided to act so grown up? Linda didn't have too long to question it, because Susan had captured her attention. Before she knew it, she had extended an invitation to the Pevensie's to join her for breakfast at her house, without her mother's permission. Mrs. Pevensie declined, saying she had to speak with her family, but offered Linda a pair of Susan's old shoes that didn't fit anymore. Linda accepted this offer.

She didn't want to step on any broken glass, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

**"This is it, I'm alive and I'm living for somebody else now and if I'm away, I want you to know I will be there when the storm gets too close. You've got my hands to hold, you've got my arms when the world gets too cold. Wherever in life you want to go, you've got my hands."--January 19th by 1997**

**Terribly sorry about the delay. The workload tends to triple near the end of the semester, you see.**

**I am currently infatuated with this song January 19th by 1997. The sheer dedication this man has for his daughter is just so sweet.**

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They were leaving—all of them. Susan, Lucy, Edmund and Peter were going to the country, to safety from the air raids. Linda was going to America to stay with the grandmother she had never met. Despite the sadness at leaving her friends, her mother and Britain altogether, Linda was excited. Her father's mother was famous for her singing and had a very large home in California.

She only wished that her friends would be coming with her as well. Linda didn't know anyone in America, she only knew her grandmother because of a picture and through letters. To share the experience—even with Edmund—would be magical. But Linda was trying to be mature and accepting her relocation with as few tears as possible.

However, she was still a child and very scared and anxious and sad. She couldn't help but cry when she was saying goodbye to her friends and her mother, and while she packed and helped the Pevensie's pack. Linda was sorry for her friends, they were only permitted to take one suitcase each—there wasn't much comfort in leaving most of your things behind. No matter how familiar the shirt was, clothes just weren't the blanket you had slept with your whole life, or the photo album your mum had helped you make.

Linda took it upon herself to help Lucy and Susan with their packing; she was very good at folding clothes and conserving space. Susan didn't accept Linda's help, nor did she reject it. She packed her suitcase while Lucy piled things on her bed for Linda to pack. The air was filled with Susan inquiring about Linda's famous grandmother, and wondering what America would be like.

Edmund and Peter's room became the source of shouts on more than one occasion. The shouts ended with a door slamming and someone (really meaning Edmund) stomping downstairs in a huff. The girls would stop what they were doing and listen to the murmurs of Mrs. Pevensie through the floorboards. They then would hear the shuffling of feet and the click of the boys' door opening again. The process continued for the rest of the day.

In the morning, the Pevensie's would go to the train station and be sent off to some house in the country—they didn't even know the address yet. Linda would be going on a long drive to the closest pier and boarding a boat. For the duration of the trip, Linda would be under the temporary guardianship of Ms. Joanna North, and then handed off to her estranged grandmother.

So when Linda had to return home for supper, it was the last time she would see her friends in a long time, and a much more tearful event. Linda clung tightly to Lucy and murmured how much she loved the girl, and how much she would miss her and how she hoped to receive mail from the youngest Pevensie. Edmund would not allow Linda to embrace him, but she placed her hand on his shoulder and expressed to him how she would miss him, even if he wouldn't miss her.

And then he had stunned everyone.

"But I will miss you. I don't want you to go and I don't want to go either!" And he had stomped his way upstairs in a fit. Edmund's door had slammed in his wake before anyone had moved, or spoken—they were too shocked to do anything after his brash departure.

"I honestly didn't think that Edmund had taken quite a liking to you," said Mrs. Pevensie with all the sincerity in the world.

"Believe me, Mrs. Pevensie, this is news to me as well," admitted Linda. The girl pivoted on the spot and faced her best friend in all of England. Susan's lower lip was trembling already—a mirror image of Linda's expression. On a silent cue, the girls lunged at each other and gripped the fabric of their shirts, burying their faces in the other's shoulder.

"You have my grandmother's address, right?" Linda asked tearfully. Susan was unable to speak, so overcome with emotion. She didn't dare speak it aloud in that moment, but she was terrified that something could happen to Linda during her long journey. Surely a boat ride was more at risk than a train ride.

The harsh reality of the matter was that this could be the last time these two ever saw each other. The thought nagged at the edge of their minds, muffled by optimism. The two girls sniffled and eventually loosened their grips, pulling away to give watery smiles and weak laughs at their red eyes and blotchy faces.

"Do take care of yourself, Linda. Try not to get into too much trouble in America."

Linda did not say goodbye to Peter, she skipped over him and wrapped her arms tightly around Mrs. Pevensie's middle and rested her cheek on the woman's shoulder. Her gaze seemed to gravitate toward his watching cerulean eyes. She escaped his confusingly distant stare by shutting her eyes and relaxing into the comforting action of Mrs. Pevensie's hand rubbing her back.

"Stay safe sweetheart, and have fun with your grandmother." Mrs. Pevensie murmured, giving the girl who was close enough to be family a tight squeeze before releasing her.

Wordlessly and without a prompt from his mother, Peter opened the door for Linda and took her hand in his. Together they trekked down the front path, with Lucy waving wildly from the doorway. Linda waved back until she could no longer see her two friends or their mother.

Peter had his jaw set and Linda looked up at him with interest. It was on that walk home that she began to notice a change in Peter. He was carrying himself in a strange way, like he wanted to be perceived as older, braver and less of a child. It was a poor charade, he looked like a young boy standing in his father's too big shoes.

When they reached Linda's home, Peter turned and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down on her.

"Well, take care, be brave and don't be troublesome for your grandmother."

Linda was stunned, for the second time that day. She let Peter walk away, leaving confusion in his wake. This one sentence was all it took for Peter to wedge his way into Linda's thoughts every day. He had somehow triggered something of an infatuation in Linda—or an insatiable curiosity.

Just what was Peter Pevensie playing at?


End file.
